Coin Flip
by katietheunicorn
Summary: Beckett reflects on the events that brought her to an internal conflict so damaging she is toying with the idea of ending her own life, while trying to remember exactly what it is she has to live for.
1. Prologue: Fifty Miles North

**Prologue: Fifty Miles North**

It was a fairly cool night out, and the air was laced with moisture, which settled against the skin and caused hairs to rise. Kate Beckett, however, was not cold, as she sat with her back against the rough bark of the only leafless oak around, its branches coiling high up into the black sky, as if reaching for the peppered stars. Though her sleeves were short, and her draping shirt, no doubt designed to follow some style to which she was not privy, hung off her right shoulder, her skin did not prickle, except for when her curling hair tickled the back of her neck. Black skinny jeans were damp and smudged with soil, and knee-high lace-up leather boots had lost their shine long ago. But she was not cold. She supposed that she probably should have been, but her sensitivity had crept inside of her somewhat, and was lurking somewhere beneath the surface, unable to breach her skin.

The crickets crooned and birds chirped as Becket sat against that tree, surrounded by green and brown and moist, hugging one leg to her chest, the other outstretched and resting on a root protruding from the Earth. Her face bore no expression; it was cold and disconnected. She stared absently into the shadows ahead of her. Her Crown Victoria was not far away, she knew, but she couldn't remember from which direction she had come as she sat there in the dirt, fifty miles north of Manhattan in a State Park somewhere along the Hudson.

At last Kate Beckett's gaze shifted to stare at the cold metal wrapped around her left ring finger, holding a diamond safely in its grasp. It was one so glitteringly clear and so ostentatious she could hardly remember the moment she allowed it to be placed upon her finger. It was an icy reminder, and it felt too tight, like it was cutting off her circulation, imprisoning her blood vessels. Imprisoning her. The hand wrapped around her bent leg so tightly it was digging the metal bar into her calf.

Her right hand was more relaxed, resting palm up on her long thigh. In it she cradled her gun.

And for the first time in her career, it was not a suspect's barrel she faced, but her own. This was perhaps the hardest test she'd ever faced, from the most difficult position she had ever found herself in. Everything was coming at her at once, like demons crawling out form the gaps between the trees surrounding her, trapping her there. She felt the same crushing pain as had come with PTSD; the same ache of loss as she'd felt that day, January 9th, all those years ago; the helplessness of facing the shooter in the warehouse after her own shooting - the shaking of her wrist; the conflict as she'd missed her shot, almost corrupted evidence and then put the job before her heart to protect her mother's killer. It all hit her right now, all that and everything that had happened since, everything that had passed in just three days, and everything that had been lost. All that had been said. All that had been seen. Everything shared between her and her squad, her and Lanie, her and Ryan and Espo. Her and Rick.

The question lay only in her cowardice, and the murderous grip of her depression. But even she could not be the judge of that as she stared vacantly out through cold, dead eyes.

She clicked off the safety and raised her arm.


	2. Chapter One: Bad Pill

**Chapter One: Bad Pill**

The morning was light and the buzz of traffic contrarily heavy when Richard Castle arose from his slumber to find the bed empty beside him. Ah, that's right, he thought to himself, she didn't stay last night. He could still see the creases in the sheets where the curve of her back had been, the cradle in the pillow where her head had rested, and the twisted corner of the pillowcase where she trapped it between her fingers as she dreamt. When he looked up, one of her blazers hung in her section of the wardrobe, newly cleared, with a matching pair of trousers folded neatly over the bar of the hanger. Below them, two pairs of typical Kate Beckett stilettos sat heel to heel on the floorboards, one pair leather lace-ups to the ankles with wider, smoother heels, the other navy blue platforms of faux suede, far more dangerous looking, both for walking and for selecting as emergency weaponry.

Castle rose and rubbed his eyes as he dragged his feet on his way to the kitchen, picking up a robe as he went and wrapping it tightly over his boxer shorts to stave off the ever-encroaching cold of November.

He was about to peruse the contents of the refrigerator in the hope of breakfast, but his heart gave a squeeze and he knew that several other needs were greater. He picked up the phone.

As the ringing continued in his ear, he paced, and pictured her luxuriating in the shower or cooking breakfast with the radio turned up too loud. She was fun like that – so much looser than when they'd first met, and freer in and of herself. Once the call hit voicemail, Castle sighed as the warmth of her voice swelled inside him and he felt a new lease of life in that morning. The loft kicked out the cold as the words, "Detective Katherine Beckett," resonated up to the high beams, and spring sprung right there around him as "Please leave your name and number" sang out of the handset, and finally the magic cooled to a pleasant hum at the promise of "I'll reach you when I can." The sun that shone in that apartment was brazen in its denial of the cold outside, and Rick Castle forgot all about breakfast as he lurched past towering bookshelves for a pair of Levi's and a striped shirt, threw on shoes and ran to the door. Shortly after he ran back to the bedroom to throw on new shoes, this time ensuring that they actually matched before taking the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator, and hitting the street at just the perfect moment to hail a passing cab uptown.

He paraded into the bull pen with his usual boldness and confidence that exuded his mind-set that he had no-one to answer to but himself. Gates glanced up over the frames of her glasses and he waved happily through the glass surrounding her office, but she chose to ignore his rampant cheerfulness and cast her eyes downward, back to paperwork of some kind, the sheets crawling with statistics that in Castle's brief snapshot just looked like the printer had broken and thrown ink everywhere. Ryan and Esposito both looked up in almost the same way the captain had: they kept their faces angled towards their papers but averted their eyes enough to crease their foreheads. When they saw it was Castle joining them, however, they lifted their heads and looked at each other, raising their hands to receive Rick's high-fives nonchalantly while rolling their eyes. Once he'd passed, they muttered in perfect unison, "Whipped."

Knowing there were exactly two places she could be, Rick raided the break room first, but found it empty, so carried on straight through to the interrogation rooms, letting himself into Observation 1. There he watched through the mirror as Kate commanded attention, standing suddenly from her seat, smacking her palms on the table and baring down on a suspect he could not see, because her hair - straight today - flowed so beautifully from her crown and covered the criminal's face, as though her beauty was enough to rid the world of injustice, starting here. She rose further, moving her chair with a careless kick from chunky-heeled boots, and walked around the table so Rick could finally see the bearded drunk with purple smudges beneath his eyes who occupied the chair; she leaned in and whispered bitterly in his ear, crowding his personal space, invading him, all the while keeping out of his sight to unsettle him. Out of nowhere she shouted, and the suspect jumped. The speakers in Castle's room were switched off, so he didn't hear the exchange, but he didn't need to. He knew her by now. These techniques she used not on those she thought to be her killer, but on those she knew secreted key information - those whom she could threaten. These people usually had some illegal involvement with an organisation or gang, or a spat with immigration, or a drug charge they wanted to go away, so she could cut a deal with them for their information. This guy was clearly a newbie - she wouldn't be so full on with an experienced criminal; she'd know they'd see through it. No, this guy, who was clearly intoxicated and possibly even high, was on red alert as words rolled off her lips, light and moist and just a tad pink from her lip balm, with a chocolate tone at the corners from her morning coffee. Distracted by the shape of her mouth, Rick missed the moment during which the guy broke, and so all he saw was Kate's ferocious slam of a pen on the table, followed by an official confession sheet. She then stormed out the room, yanking the door closed with such force the blinds on the neighbouring window rocked.

She walked calmly into the observation room, dropping her persona all together, but didn't see Rick leaning against the sound equipment stashed at the back of the room. "Playing a little bad cop, huh?" He asked, and she flinched suddenly in surprise and turned around, sending her hair out in a fan of gold. As soon as she saw him the shock was gone and a huge grin spread across her face with all the radiance of a kid at Christmas and more, and she strode toward him and framed his face with her hands, pulling his lips forcefully to hers in greeting.

"Hey," she whispered when they finally came up for air, keeping her forehead touched to his while her fists trapped the collar of his shirt like she was trying to detain him.

"Definitely playing bad cop," Castle confirmed, and Kate was too happy to give him a snarky reply.

"If you'd like, I could play bad cop tonight," she hinted, uncurling the fingers of her right hand and allowing her palm to slither south, reaching his belt buckle and venturing on, grazing denim with her knuckles, and feeling his quickening pulse in her fingertips as she stroked his thigh, tempting him, but not giving him exactly what he wanted just yet as she nipped playfully at his neck.

As abruptly as it had begun, she ended it swiftly, asking, "Coffee?" as she sashayed off to the door. Castle couldn't quite yet speak to offer a reply, and took a moment in the dark room to collect himself before following her to the espresso machine. They were nice enough to make coffee for Ryan, Espo and Gates while they were there, but they didn't speak a word to each other, though each stole glances at the other, and a few times their eyes met, as though they were capable of telepathy.

Castle brought Gates her coffee in his epic journey to attempt to sweeten her up, but she merely murmured, "Thank you, Mister Castle," without looking up from the moment he walked in - she just knew it would be he who showed up with her usual in an NYPD ceramic mug. She scared him.

Upon his return to Kate's desk, where he admired her arch of elephants for what seemed like the thousandth time, the team was discussing the suspect and the information she'd squeezed out of him. "I know he's got more in him," Kate offered. "He's given me some but I know he's got the rest up here-" she tapped her temple "-he's just drip feeding me, trying to satiate the thirst. But we have twenty-four hours, so Ryan, can you please check the phone and back records of every suspect he names - you'll get a full list on his confession to partaking in a drug ring - and Esposito can you please liaise with Lanie and tell her which drugs he's listing; don't leave out any details because she'll need to make the screen really specific. Also tell her we'll have more coming. Castle and I will take a team to his basement to seize everything - we're not expecting anyone to be there but we'll have backup just in case."

With everything outlined clearly, Rick and Kate threw on their vests and headed for the elevator as if he'd been there with her since seven a.m.; he just slid into the flow of things. They stole a quick kiss on their way down, then switched to business mode as they climbed into her car. Two blue-and-white patrol units followed and one carrying two officers trained with shotguns rode out ahead; seven cops and Castle wasn't too shabby, she thought, and the trip would surely go without a hitch.

They burst into the basement to find three surprised criminals still counting their load, stacks of balloons dripping blood piled on their desks. Kate just grinned and watched, Castle at her side, as the six uniforms busted in, the shotguns commanding either side of the room and the semiautomatics taking a suspect each, so one was left to radio in for a transport van. She looked up into his blue eyes and nodded triumphantly. "Ace," she said.

Between the three of them, Ryan, Espo and Kate coaxed information from the new drug runners until they all pointed the finger at the first guy Kate had been interrogating that morning. Not such a newbie after all, as it turned out. He'd faked his cluelessness assuming the place would be empty - he was not expecting his dedicated and penniless househusbands to remain out of greed and Carry on Counting their product. But there it was. A nice, easy solve - another killer behind bars.

"An easy one," Castle commented, as though the idea were perfectly foreign to him. At last he shrugged, "At least it'll boost your clearance rate," he offered.

"Yeah," she conceded. "Not that it needed boosting."

"You could give some credit to the boys?" he suggested.

They looked over at her detectives, fighting in the break room over which brand of coffee beans to use. "Mm, nah," Kate and Rick chorused together, then giggled. "Don't feel too bad, Castle, an interesting one will come along next time," Kate soothed.

"In the meantime, you could always come back to my loft...?"

She sighed. "Rick, you know I have a ton of paperwork, and..." She trailed off and looked up at him almost desperately, biting her bottom lip, struggling to resist.

They broke at the same moment and rose hurriedly from their seats, each littering one of the boys' desks with one half of the paperwork required and running for it before they got back to their desks. When Ryan and Espo did arrive, they looked at each other, realising they had been played, and walked straight back to the break room for even bigger cups of coffee, even though they'd just downed those that Kate had brought them.

Kate and Rick broke onto the street and immediately hailed a passing cab - Rick seemed to be having quite some luck that morning - it was headed uptown anyway so they decided to go back to her apartment instead of the loft.

They kissed in the backseat of the car and they kissed in the elevator in her building and they kissed ferociously outside her door, so ferociously it took a minute for either one of them to find their key inside. They kissed as they entered the apartment and crossed the hall, then broke away just long enough for her to pick up the now-trampled mail her super had been kind enough to shove through the letterbox.

She only opened one - it was hand addressed, and so she was curious to see who had sent it.

When she didn't follow after Castle, he came back to the entryway to see what was wrong. "Kate?" he asked. She merely offered him the envelope.

Inside was a collection of surveillance photos - one of Kate, one of her with Rick, one of her mom from long ago that Kate had seen hundreds of times, and lastly, one of Bracken. There was a written note inside, very brief: _Café Dupree, 80th/Lex, Sun 9am._

"What do you think it means?" Castle asked.

"I don't know."

"Are you going to go?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to?"

"No."

"But you will."

"Probably."

"Would you like me to come?"

"Yes."

"Kate?" he said, sensitivity now leaking into his syrupy voice. At last she looked up from the photo of Johanna, clutched tightly in her hands.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he said softly.

Kate sighed. "But I do. They could know something - whoever they are. They appear to know enough to have linked Bracken, and that's not public knowledge."

Rick sighed, too. "True. But what if it's an ambush?"

"Just have to chance it." She walked to him and fell against his chest as he took her in a tight, protective embrace. "It's like a bad pill," she said. "You've just got to swallow it."


End file.
